


A Witcher's Touch

by TheButcherFromBlaviken



Series: FYF - Fuck Your Fave [4]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Age Difference, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Dacryphilia, Dom/sub Undertones, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Shameless Smut, Size Difference, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-13
Updated: 2021-01-13
Packaged: 2021-03-18 04:14:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28737066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheButcherFromBlaviken/pseuds/TheButcherFromBlaviken
Summary: You're a mage, more or less just graduated from Ban Ard Academy. You succeed on your first, real task - but only because someone lends a hand and a silver sword.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Original Character(s), Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Original Male Character(s)
Series: FYF - Fuck Your Fave [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1237256
Kudos: 13





	A Witcher's Touch

Fresh out of the Ban Ard Academy, you were braver than any of your fellow alumni, almost to a fault. However, you were also the smartest out of all of them, granting you the right to choose which kingdom you would serve. 

As a sorcerer, your job was to aid kings and queens in their duties, and protect them when said duties brought trouble. Sure, they had armies, and they could hire as many mercenaries as they desired, but a sorcerer held powers that could be matched by no sword. 

You had served your kingdom for a few years when the monsters attacked. 

It was a group of basilisks, and for whatever reason, they were hell-bent on destroying the kingdom. 

Your first real task, your first  _ real _ chance of showing your skills and your brilliance - you nearly pissed yourself with excitement when you heard of it. 

In reality, however, it was a lot harder to take on an entire pack of basilisks. 

You knew they were vulnerable to fire and bombs - though, to be fair, most creatures were vulnerable to bombs - and that’s what you served them. Your best fire attacks and your best bombs. The beasts screeched and hissed, retreating until you had a perfect shot, and you took it, gritting your teeth and conjuring streams of white-hot fire from your fingertips. It wasn’t painful, but it took all your strength to do it so much, and so often. 

You were down to the final basilisk, and it was already hurt. Badly. But while your enemy was almost out for the count, so were you. 

You were on your knees, gasping and panting. Struggling to produce magic that usually came to you so easily. 

The basilisk roared and lunged for you. 

Weakly, you roared back and made another attempt at magic, but it was futile. You were too exhausted and drained. 

“No,” you whispered and dodged the beast’s attack, landing on your stomach on the ground, just in time to hear something sing and swish through the air. Then the dying screech of a monster, a heavy thud, and then --- silence. 

You turned around, heaved a deep breath, and your eyes widened. 

The basilisk was no more. Its head was a few inches off the ground, held up by someone you thought to only exist in ballads and myths. 

Geralt of Rivia. The White Wolf. Butcher of Blaviken. 

In the flesh. 

The witcher lifted the basilisk’s head, seemingly inspecting it. 

“You... you saved me,” you whispered and took a deep breath while slowly getting to your feet. The witcher turned his head to look at you, and the brooding stare was almost enough to make you cower. You had dealt with being yelled at, being threatened with death, experiments and spells gone wrong, but you had never experienced a stare so stoic that it should be able to get a dragon to back down. 

You swallowed heavily. There was...  _ something _ , about that look. Something that a certain body part of yours seemed to enjoy. 

“Don’t make a habit of it,” Geralt said, and his voice was just as gruff and grating as you had expected it to be. Deep and rough. Something that a certain body part  _ also _ seemed to enjoy. 

“What were you doing, anyway? Why are you taking on a pack of basilisks all by yourself?”

You felt your cheeks heat up, and looked away from the witcher’s stern look. Began fidgeting with your fingers. 

“I thought that I, uh... you see, I’m the king’s mage, and he ordered me to kill them, and---”

“Why?”

“They’re dangerous creatures, of course, and they have been - had been, I should say - terrorizing our peaceful town. Naturally, it was only right that someone should take care of them.”

“But you? Alone? You can’t be more than twenty-two winters.” 

“Twenty-three,” you corrected, “and for your information, white-hair, I was the top of my class at Ban Ad.” 

Geralt didn’t look even slightly impressed. Maybe that was because you had called him ‘white-hair’, though. Hard to determine. 

Geralt lifted the basilisk’s head and was about to move out of the cave, when you called out to him. 

“Payment!” you blurted out, and your cheeks got warmer. Geralt didn’t slow down, simply kept walking. So, you ran to keep up with him, nearly slipping on the dirt. “I can’t let you go without paying you for saving my life!”

“I didn’t take on a contract to kill the basilisks.”

“Then... then why  _ did _ you kill it? And why are you wagging its head around?”

“It’s useful for odds and ends for potions and elixirs. Surely you, an important mage at the king’s court, would know this.” As he said this, Geralt turned his head slightly to look at you, a smug smile on his face. 

Humiliated, and a little mortified, your mouth dropped open, and your eyes widened. Your cock throbbed. 

“As for payment,” Geralt continued and looked straight-ahead again, walking slower so that you didn’t have to run to keep up with him, “I expect nothing from helping strangers in need.”

“I can’t let you go without offering you  _ something. _ I would feel bad!”

The witcher stopped walking, turned his tall, muscular frame to look at you again. You swallowed heavily once more. 

“What can you pay?”

You blushed slightly and rubbed the back of your neck.

“Truth be told, I’m not very rich---”

“You’re a king’s mage.”

“He doesn’t pay me very well. Prefers wasting his coins on wine and women.” Your voice was small, and you looked slightly away, as if embarrassed. 

Geralt took a step towards you, his yellow, cat-like eyes scanning your face, and it made you even more flustered. 

“I-I can-- I guess I could teach you more advanced magic, i-if you’d like?”

Another step in your direction brought Geralt into your personal space. Confused, but absolutely not complaining, you looked up at him with wide eyes. He leaned in towards you, and his nose was probably only an inch from yours. 

You could practically feel sweat run down your face, and your entire body seemed to tremble. You could smell him - blood and guts, leather, and the vague smell of a horse. 

Then he tilted his head slightly, and there was the unmistakable sound of him sniffing you. A deep inhale through his nose, and Geralt leaned back to look at you once more. There was a grin on his face that showed off his white teeth. 

“What---”

“I have no use for higher magic. I’m a witcher, not a sorcerer.” 

“Then what---”

“Meet me at the inn when you’re clean. I’m sure you’ll find a way to pay your debt.” 

“Can I get to finish a sentence?” you mumbled, but you couldn’t deny that an inkling of hope appeared in the pit of your stomach. Hope that this brutish, stoic witcher would show you a good time. 

A  _ real _ good time. 

* * *

Bathed and with your long, curly hair put in an elegant ponytail, you were dressed in the finest clothes you owned. Probably nothing compared to what a witcher owned, but you tried not to think about that as you rode towards the inn. 

Reaching your destination, you dismounted your horse and handed the reins to the stableman so that he could take care of her. 

You opened the door, walked inside, and was instantly met by the lovely aroma of warm food and cold ale. 

There was no witcher to be seen, however. So, naturally, you walked up to the innkeep and ordered a beer and information.

“Have you seen a witcher here, recently? Tall, white hair, yellow eyes. Stoic.” 

“Aye,” the innkeep said as she pushed the jug of beer towards you. “Went upstairs did he. Said to inform you of his whereabouts. Room two on the right, up the stairs. Knock before you enter.” 

Your heart seemed to skip a beat. A room? What could the witcher possibly have in mind? 

_ ‘Sex’, _ said a small voice in the back of your head. 

Gods, you hoped that voice was right. 

You grabbed the jug of beer and put a few coins on the table before you walked towards the stairs and ascended them. Your mind spun with thoughts, yet you couldn’t seem to grasp a single one of them. 

When you reached the second door on the right, you were about to knock, but the door was opened just as you lifted your hand. 

In the door stood none other than Geralt of Rivia, wearing his full armor. Part of you had hoped he would have put on some fancy clothes while another part was thrilled that he hadn’t. As it had been the first time you had seen him, the top layer of his white hair was pulled back in a loose ponytail, and it was quite a good look on him. His chin and sharp jaws were lined with subtle, white stubble, and his eyes glistened, yellow and attentive. 

He looked you up and down and let out a low growl that you hoped to every god available was a positive one, and stepped to the side to allow you into his room. 

Barely had you stepped inside before the door was closed - and locked - behind you, and you whirled around to ask what the big idea was.

‘The big idea’ clearly was to pound you into a mess - with reflexes that were much quicker than any human’s, and a strength that was also very much inhuman, Geralt pushed you towards the bed and down on the mattress. 

“Geralt, wait,” you said, voice low and shaky, “I---”

“No,” the witcher growled and climbed on top of you, forcing you to lie flat on your back and look up at him with wide eyes. 

“Come on, I’m sure you ca-aaaaannnn, oh  _ fuck!”  _

Geralt didn’t seem to want to let you finish a sentence; instead of letting you talk, he pushed his pelvis against yours, and your cocks rubbed together. 

“You were saying?” he rumbled, a smug smile twisting his lips, and you let out a shaky sound. 

“Oi, fuck you,” you whispered and blinked a few times, trying to regain control of your breathing. 

“The plans is to fuck  _ you. _ ” 

“Oh.” It was a trembling word on even more trembling lips, and you stared up at him as he slowly lowered himself on top of you. 

The kiss was unexpected, but  _ very _ welcome, not to mention rough and searing hot. His stubble scratched against your lower face, and although it hurt slightly, it was so good. You automatically reached up to grab his beefy upper arms, and he let out a low, gruff hum. 

“Like those?” he asked, and you shivered while making a soft sound, not far from a whine. Your fingers gripped his arms tighter while your pelvis pushed up against him, and Geralt chuckled and pulled back to have a look at you. “I haven’t even begun, and you’re already so eager.” 

“Don’t tease me,” you whined and threw your head back against the pillows, your teeth practically chattering. 

“And why’s that?” 

You felt heat rise into your cheeks, and you bit your lower lip, but didn’t answer. 

“Asked you a question,” Geralt nearly growled and ground hard against you. A pathetic mewl escaped you, and you gasped loudly. Your cock jerked, and, more importantly, you felt  _ his _ cock twitch as well. 

Now, you hadn’t touched it properly, you hadn’t even  _ seen _ it, but just from the grinding, you knew that Geralt was  _ hung. _ Like a fucking  _ horse _ . The thought was terrifying as well as exhilarating - you could have sworn your mouth watered, and you whimpered softly. The mental image of his cock buried deep in your ass, wrecking you and pulling wretched whines from you... it was delightful, and you felt your cock bob. 

Geralt had noticed.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked on a low growl and leaned back to undo his armor. “Tell me.” 

“Just--- just thinking about your cock in my ass,” you managed to stutter. 

Geralt snorted and slowly undid the buckles holding his armor together. Your eyes were transfixed on the slow movements, careful and attentive, almost tender. There was something so personal,  _ intimate, _ about it, that you almost had to look away. His fingers, thick and calloused, yet nimble, gently pulling at the leather until he could get it off. With the same tenderness, he put the armor on the floor next to the bed and continued stripping. 

You wiggled a bit, wanting to get out of your clothes as well, but Geralt had straddled your hips and effectively held you down. 

“That it?”

You shuddered and arched your back slightly, watching him hungrily.

“Please, Geralt,” you whispered, and he laughed at you. A deep, gruff, grating sound that you instantly loved. 

“Please  _ what? _ ” 

You whimpered and reached up to help him undress, eager to get down to business, but he swatted your hands away. 

“Tell me what’s on your mind.” 

His voice wasn’t sweet or kind - no, it was hard and commandeering, and you couldn’t help a soft gasp while a shudder jerked your body. 

“I just... just thought of you fucking me so hard that I cry.” It was embarrassing to admit, but Geralt’s eyes seemed to light up, and he growled quietly, his fingers losing some of that tender slowness as he almost ripped off his shirt. You moaned and arched you back slightly, looking intensely up at him. 

“My cock, bobbing helplessly as you take me, hard and fast and rough,” you continued in a husky voice, “taking what belongs to you.” 

“Damn right,” he growled and leaned down to kiss you again, hard and rough, and ground against you. A sharp gasp escaped you, followed by a loud whimper, and you eagerly kissed him back, rolling your hips against him and grabbing his arms firmly. 

“Damn right you belong to me. A poor, helpless mage - I’m sure I’ll find a use for you.” 

You looked at him, and there was a mischievous, if not downright ominous, glint in his eyes. It made a moan roll past your lips, and then you made the mistake of tipping your head backwards, once more exposing your throat. 

Geralt took advantage of this - a sound rumbled deep in his chest, and he pressed his lips firmly against your exposed skin, making you moan again and squeeze your eyes tightly shut. Your fingers dug into his upper arms, and you could feel his muscles flex. His lips went from kissing firmly to sucking hard, his tongue tickling the flushed flesh, and you whined softly, wiggling the slight bit you could. You knew what he was doing, and the thought of carrying his marks was thrilling. 

You lifted a trembling hand and put it on the back of his head, moaning and whining uncontrollably as he went from one naked patch of dark, flushed skin to the next. 

“Geralt,” you whispered and arched your back with a sharp gasp when he touched a particularly sensitive spot. He simply grunted in response and kept attacking that particularly sensitive spot until you writhed and squirmed. 

“Geralt, please, I need your cock in me, please,” you whispered on a single, short breath, and Geralt ground hard against you, rubbing your cocks together and setting off stars behind your closed eyes. 

“Is that begging I hear?” he teased, but his voice, too, was tight and gruff, and it was clear that he was more than ready to indulge you. 

“Fucking hell, if you don’t allow me to undress right now, I  _ will--- _ ” 

No one ever heard what you would do, for in the next moment, Geralt had expertly and quickly moved so he could cup your cock in his hand. He squeezed firmly and forced a wrecked moan from your lips, smiling smugly. 

“You’re in no position to make demands,  _ mage. _ ” The word ‘mage’ was spat at you, like it was an insult, and you shuddered with a feeble whine. “You’ll do what I say, when I say it, is that clear?” 

You tried to look defiant, but the arched eyebrow told you that you did a pisspoor job. 

“We can do it the nice way, or the hard way. Up to you.”

You swallowed heavily and looked up at Geralt with wide eyes. 

“What is the hard way?”

He leaned in close, his hot breath rolling over your face. 

“You won’t know until it’s too late,” he whispered, and you were terribly embarrassed by how your cock throbbed in his firm grip. “But, it seems you like that idea.” 

“Don’t fucking tease me, Geralt, please,” you whimpered and squirmed. However, you didn’t remain free for long. 

Geralt had apparently interpreted your squirming as you wanting it the hard way, and he grabbed both your hands with one of his and roughly pinned it above your head. You couldn’t help a wanton moan, and you drew up your legs slightly while pushing into his hand. 

“Geralt, please---”

Geralt just grinned. 

“Geralt, I’m---”

“Sir.”

You blinked a few times, then frowned slightly. 

“What?”

“You will address me as ‘sir’, or not at all. Is that clear?” 

A shudder ran through you, and you exhaled loudly and shakily. 

“Is that  _ clear? _ ” 

“Yes, sir.”

“Good boy.” The words were followed up by an almost tender caress to your cheek, and you gasped sharply. Your mind reeled, almost unable to keep up with the different emotions and sensations you were experiencing. His rough hand on your wrists and his other gripping your cock, his lips suddenly gentle as they found yours. 

You whimpered and kissed him back, trying to tug your hands free and touch his face, but it was futile; he was so much stronger than you. 

Truth be told, you would be lying if you said you weren’t into it. You  _ were _ into it. A lot. 

You tested his strength again, and the way his biceps barely flexed as his hand pushed yours firmer against the headboard made your toes curl and fingers twitch. Your heart beat incredibly fast, and you were shamefully aware that there was a wet spot on the front of your trousers. Not aware enough to care, just enough that you could feel it when you squirmed again. 

Geralt chuckled and let go of your crotch to instead unbutton your trousers. He did it painfully slowly, and you  _ knew _ he did it to tease you, the bastard. 

The moment he had finished, and your cock sprang free, you moaned shakily and leaned your head back, biting your lower lip. Your hips automatically bucked upwards, seeking any kind of friction. 

“Not wearing anything underneath?” Geralt hummed and trailed a few fingers up and down your shaft, practically driving you insane. You whined and pushed into his fingers, but just as you moved, his hand withdrew, and the pathetic mewl that escaped you had him grinning. 

“Geralt, please, touch me!” 

He firmly slapped your inner thigh, and you gasped. 

“Sir, sorry, I’m sorry, please, sir, touch me, I need it, need you to---”

Once more, Geralt didn’t allow you to finish a sentence, instead closed his hand around your dark cock and began moving up and down. The touch was actually divine and made you gasp, shudder, then moan as your back arched, and you almost came then and there. 

“Keep your hands above your head,” he ordered, and he waited for you to nod before he let go of your hands to instead fondle your balls. 

You mewled pathetically and thrashed on the bed, but kept your hands above your head as per Geralt’s instructions. 

“Sir!” you gasped and whimpered as his fingers graced your perineum. He stroked the flesh again, a bit firmer, and you nearly went mad with lust. 

Your cock twitched, and ivory pre-cum leaked from the slit at the top and down the shaft. 

“Yes?”

“Please, sir, I need you to fuck me!” Your voice was weak and airy, and you knew that, had you had the braincells to care, you would have been mortified. As it was, however, you were too aroused to care for anything else than Geralt’s cock in your ass. 

“Hmm. It would appear that you do,” he grinned and fisted your cock faster but kept the grip light. You cried out and thrust into his fist, and Geralt clicked his tongue at you, then stopped moving his hand. A frustrated growl left you, and he slapped your inner thighs again, harder this time. “Hush. Now, be a good boy and retrieve the vial from my armor. There’s only one of them, and if I catch you fondling my armor...” He trailed off but cast a glance at his swords that didn’t go past you. 

You nodded and hesitantly lowered your hands. When Geralt didn’t scold you, you hurried to obey and retrieve the small vial. It was triangular and full of a purple fluid. You gave it to Geralt while looking at him almost reverently, and the second you had handed it over, he grabbed your hair and tugged your head backwards, making you whimper.

“Very good, boy. Do you want your reward?” 

“Yes, sir,” you gasped and shuddered, looking up at him. He grinned and slowly lowered his head, until his lips touched your throat and made you see stars. “ _ Sir, _ ” you breathed out and closed your eyes, mewling at the way his stubble scratched against your flesh and the way his lips slid over your already bruised throat so easily. 

It was over far too quickly - suddenly, he let go and pulled back, shoved you backwards on the mattress and pulled your legs up against his body. The breath hitched in your throat, and the only sound you could produce was a choked-off gasp. 

Geralt opened the small vial and poured a decent amount on his fingers, then, 

“Spread your legs.”

Without thinking or questioning, you did just that - you spread your legs as wide as you could, and the approving growl was worth the strain of your inner thighs. 

Then Geralt used his other hand to spread your buttocks, and you nearly stopped breathing when his cold, wet fingers pressed against your hole. 

He looked up at you, impatience written in every line and angle of his face. 

“Have you been with a man before?”

You nodded and heaved a deep, shaky breath, leaning your head back against the pillows. 

“Was it recently?”

“N-No, sir, been a while,” you whispered, “but please, hurry, just do it, I need you inside me.” 

Geralt inhaled audibly and pushed the first finger in. The intruding feeling was accompanied by a burning sensation as your hole stretched around his thick finger, and you tensed before you forced yourself to relax. 

“Good boy,” Geralt rumbled, and you blushed deeply. 

“Thank you, sir.”

There was silence in the room as he worked you open. Silence, apart from the moans and groans leaving you, of course. Receiving the third finger nearly did you in, and you grabbed the sheets and mattress tightly, hissing quietly and thrashing on the bed. 

“Sir, I’m going to---”

“No,” Geralt interrupted, voice stern, “you won’t come yet. Not until I give you permission.” 

You whimpered loudly and felt a few tears sting your eyes. 

“Please, sir, I need it!”

“What you need,” Geralt corrected you, ominous amusement tinging his voice, “is my long, thick cock in your tight, little ass.” 

“Then fucking get on with it,” you hissed weakly. 

“Do you really want to forego preparations?” 

“Anything, sir, anything at all!”

Geralt growled loudly and removed his fingers, leaving you feeling oddly empty. 

Then there was blunt pressure against your hole, and you knew it was his cock, and you knew it was going to hurt like  _ hell. _ Even so, you were excited and aroused beyond belief, and even when the tip forced its way past the tight ring of muscles, you let out a loud, shaky moan. 

“Sir, oohhh,  _ fuck _ , sir,” you gasped and closed your eyes tightly, squeezing out the few tears that lingered there. 

For half a second, Geralt stopped.

“Are you crying?” 

“N-Not really,” you whispered, tried a breathless laugh. “It’s just so much.”

“What a shame.” 

And then Geralt slowly but forcefully pushed forward, making the most beautiful, strained sound as his cock was slowly swallowed by your tight ass. You cried out and grabbed his arms tightly, your nails digging into his flushed skin. 

“Fuck!” you cursed loudly and threw your head back, your toes curling. It hurt, and it hurt a lot. “P-Please, sir, please, take it easy, it hurts---”

“What a shame,” he repeated and flashed you a baleful grin. “You’re a good boy, aren’t you?”

You nodded, and a small sob escaped you. 

“Then shut up and take it.”

A shudder went through you, and you moaned shakily, forcing yourself to relax as Geralt, eventually, bottomed out within you. Trembling and breathing heavily, you looked up at him, and there was a small victory in the fact that he, too, looked out of it. His pupils had narrowed, as if he was focusing on something incredibly important, and his brows furrowed, his lips drawn back in a silent snarl. 

There was something beautiful about the scenario - you, on your back, your tight ass struggling to accommodate Geralt’s massive cock, and Geralt, seemingly struggling to accept this as well. 

He spent a few seconds resting against your ass before he pulled back with a long, shaky growl. With just the tip inside you, he slammed hard forward, and you cried out in pain-laced pleasure, your lithe body jerking slightly over the bed. 

“Sir, please!” you whimpered loudly and squirmed, but Geralt was infinitely much stronger than you and easily held you down as he started pounding into you. His cock was truly massive, and the burning sensation of being stretched was almost unbearable, but through the agony, there was pleasure. Especially when Geralt inevitably slammed against your prostate and made you see stars and scream, actually  _ scream. _

It didn’t take long before more tears slid down your cheeks, and you were about to wipe them away, when Geralt growled,

“Don’t. Leave them be.”

A little confused, you obeyed and felt more tears make their way down your face. You began sniffling and actually crying from the pain and the overwhelming feeling of being so full and stretched. Not that you wanted him to stop, Gods no - you were thoroughly enjoying it, but it  _ did _ hurt quite a lot. 

“That’s it,” Geralt rasped and fucked you harder and faster, pounding your tight ass viciously, as if his life depended on it. “You’re such a good boy, aren’t you?”

“Yes, sir, yes, yes, I am!” you sobbed and sniffled, crying out when Geralt pushed against your prostate again and again. Your cock bobbed and twitched, and you wanted to come so badly, but he had said you weren’t allowed to until he gave you permission... 

“Please, sir, can I come?” you whimpered pathetically and threw your head back in a long, deep moan as Geralt fucked you absolutely mercilessly. 

“No,” he immediately snarled, and you let out a frustrated whine. “You’ll come when I order you to, not a second sooner or later.”

More tears streamed down your face, and you looked up at Geralt through them. He looked... oddly focused, his eyes transfixed on your face, and his lips were parted, allowing him to make such delicious sounds as he slid in and out of you. 

“You look wonderful,” he growled and leaned down to kiss you, hard and rough, just like the pace he had set, and his teeth immediately found your bottom lip, biting it somewhat firmly. You sobbed and tried to kiss him back, but then he had pulled away and pulled your legs firm against his broad, scarred chest, fucking you like a mad beast. 

“But I’m crying,” you sobbed and lifted your hand to wipe the tears away, but Geralt grabbed your hand and pushed it against the pillows. You halfway noticed how he entwined your fingers. 

“Exactly.” 

Your free hand went to grab a handful of Geralt’s ass, and he growled quietly, slammed deep into you and had his other arm wrapped around your twitching legs. 

“Fuck, sir, I’m so close, I’m so close,” you whispered breathlessly, every word broken up by a merciless thrust. 

“Then come,” Geralt ordered, his voice even more strained and tight, and he closed a fist around your cock, “come for me, show me what a good little boy you are.” 

You cried out and arched your back. Your nails dug into his flesh, and your toes curled almost painfully as you came just a second later. Your ass couldn’t properly twitch and flutter around Geralt’s massive cock, but even so, it seemed to be enough, because in the next moment, Geralt snarled loudly and threw his head back as he emptied himself inside you with a final, ruthless thrust. 

You felt his cum - hot and sticky and  _ wonderful  _ \- deep inside your ass, and you moaned brokenly as euphoria rippled through you and made you shatter into a thousand pieces. Your own cum landed on your chest and stomach, and for a long, long moment that ended all too quickly, your body was light as a feather, and you felt so immensely, blissfully empty. 

Then reality came rushing back to you, and you gasped deeply, as if you had forgotten to breathe for a good few seconds. 

You slumped back against the mattress, vaguely aware that Geralt was still hard inside you. He had stopped moving, though. You blinked rapidly and looked up at him, a lazy, dopey grin forming on your face. 

“Can you go again?” you asked, voice slightly slurred. He nodded and slowly let go of your legs. You let them fall to the bed with a soft thud. “I would love that.”

He laughed, and although it was softly, it was such a sweet and unexpected sound that it nearly stole your breath away. 

“Later. For now, rest.” 

He gingerly pulled out of you, and you winced at the pain. 

“Fucking hell, Geralt, I won’t be able to walk for a week!” 

“Two, when I’m through with you.” He chuckled softly and ran a hand through your hair. Then he lowered himself to the bed and pulled you flush against his huge frame. You happily complied and snuggled against him, your face buried in his impressive chest. 

“That was amazing,” you mumbled after a minute of silence. Geralt hummed and stroked your back slowly up and down. “You really know how to fuck.”

“Not my first time.”

“I’ll bet,” you laughed and closed your eyes, drawing a heavy sigh. 

You spent a few minutes in comfortable silence before Geralt got up from the bed. You whined pathetically and looked after him. 

Geralt walked to the bathtub by the wall and stuck a hand in the water. 

“Water’s perfect. Come over here.”

Now, you knew, logically, that you had just been fucked asunder, and that your ass needed time to rest. Knowing this didn’t mean you actually thought about it. So, when you moved your legs over the edge of the bed and stood up, you nearly fell face-first onto the floor. 

“Fucking hell!” you cursed and grabbed the bedpost to remain standing. Your entire body was sore and trembling, but your backside and lower back were the worst. 

Geralt snorted and crossed the room in a few strides, gingerly picked you up, and carried you to the bath. You blushed deeply and mumbled something that could, potentially, have been a meek ‘thank you’. 

The water was wonderfully warm, and you moaned softly as you leaned back against the bathtub. Geralt sat on a stool and began stroking your hair. You closed your eyes and hummed softly as his fingers carded through your hair almost tenderly. Every now and then, they rubbed your scalp and forced a pleased whine from you. 

It was almost... romantic. You hated that you thought that - this was nothing more than a debt being paid, and there was no reason whatsoever for you to catch feelings for Geralt. It would only end in heartbreak. 

Nevertheless, that was how it was. You sighed inwardly and pushed the thoughts away, instead making way for much more fun thoughts. 

“Geralt?”

“Hmm?”

“How about that second round?” 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed <3


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